Dear future me,
Have you seen the movie Tractor? No, me neither, I’ve only seen the trailer. Har har, get it? You always say open with a joke sooo…
Moving swiftly on. I decided to write this because I wrote a letter to fifteen year old me who obviously can’t read what I wrote because she’s in some 2002 time warp wearing combat pants and drinking vanilla Coke, but you can. You, future Jane, or present Jane by the time you read this (my braaaaain), you can read exactly what I wrote to you and heed my advice. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad advice. I just want you to still have fun, even if you probably can’t drink tequila and put your foot behind your head anymore.
I reeeally hope you’re thinking:
I hope that everything is going well for you. If you are healthy, have a home, still have Jack, have a son or daughter and a steady job then I want you to know that you are very very lucky. Because you’re me, you probably complain, even when things are going well. But listen- you need to quit it and appreciate what you have. Don’t make me jump into my flux capacitor and come get you.
Right now, I’m happy…but there is so much more that I want. And I am hoping that you have some of those things. Of course, you’re not going to have them all. I doubt you’re best friends with Jennifer Lawrence, living in Aruba and hosting Letterman. But if you are happy, healthy and secure… Well, that’s all we’ve ever hoped for, right?
I want you to know that this Jane loves to laugh. She loves Jack very much. She loves the countryside and the sound of laughter. Her family are everything to her. She helps young minds open up to the world around them. If, for any reason, something has made you forget all of this, then I want to remind you: your life has meaning. You were happy. You can be happy again.
If your life is going dandy and you know it, then swell. It would be really great if you could master time-travel and come back to give me some dough. Come on Jane, I’m waiting. No? fine, I’m so putting you in a home.
Let me just end by reminding you that you once touched Nick Carter as he was thrusting in leather and covered in sweat, just incase you forgot. Who am I kidding, of course you didn’t forget. I just wanted to revisit that memory. *goes to dark part of mind*
Also, I’m dying my hair already because I’ve spotted a grey hair or two. If you could keep that up so I don’t resemble a Shakespearean hag, that’d be great.
I’m going to go do handstands while I still can, don’t be too jealous. You’re still a total catch.
Past Jane (creepy smile) x